


Spider and Fly

by 7veilsphaedra



Category: Saiyuki
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-09-16
Updated: 2009-09-16
Packaged: 2017-10-05 17:39:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/44306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/7veilsphaedra/pseuds/7veilsphaedra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a lifelong stint outside modern western medical facilities with Mèdicins Sans Frontiers, Ukoku finds allies and enemies in his new position as Emergency Department Head in a Level One Hospital, who require an adjustment in his usual method of dealing with stress.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Spider and Fly

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kispexi2](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kispexi2/gifts).



> Originally written for the 2009 7thnight_smut Community Saiyuki Alternate Universe Giftfic Exchange at Livejournal, for kispexi_2's prompt: "Modern-day hospital; Saiyuki meets ER = hospital romance! Ideally I'd like as many Saiyuki characters in character-appropriate roles (doctors, nurses, psychiatrists, physios etc etc) as possible."
> 
> Inestimable thanks to the magnificent whymzycal for the beta. Any mistakes which show up are entirely mine.

Bird-claw fingers, white at the knuckle, wrapped around his collar. Above the pounding of blood in his ears, he could barely hear the nurse yelling for security, or the hospital-wide 'Code Gray'. This took him more by surprise than the thrashing and screams of the patient.

"They're not going to cut me up, Doctor … Doc." There was a terrible strength in the old man's grip. "I won't let them."

Kouryu was used to strong smells. The stench of disinfectants and other odours always fouled triage, but the rancid waves which rolled up from this patient were like a prizefighter's knockout: stale alcohol, rolled tobacco, urine and rotting vegetables.

"Stop grabbing me!" The intern reeled, trying to pry loose from the patient's death grip. His feet scrabbled against slick waxed tiles and felled an IV stand, which knocked over something else with a loud clatter. Plastic and metal skittered and clanged across the floor. The old lady with probable heartburn whose pulse, breath and blood pressure had read normal, yet who thought she was dying, moaned from her wheelchair behind the curtain.

"Don't call me doctor." Kouryu wheezed. "Is there anything anywhere that says I'm one?"

"I'm not ready to die."

"Crap." He yanked free, and then grabbed onto an arm to wrestle the old man down until beefier security arrived. It took all his strength, and though the guy looked ancient, he was whipcord wiry and thrumming with mad energy or solvents. He also had an obvious double compound fracture. Kouryu could see the bone sticking out just above his ankle. He shouldn't have had so much strength. "There's no way you're getting out of this hellhole by dying on us. Not with just a broken leg, dammit."

"That's telling him, Kouryu." The dulcet tones of his nemesis sniped from across the staging area. "Your bedside manner always was a cut above."

With an inarticulate snarl, the young student physician looked around for something to hurl at Kanzeon when he could finally let go—preferably a bedpan, a used bedpan.

"I don't want to be parted out," the drunk howled. "I'm attached to my organs. I'm attached to my limbs."

"We're not a junkyard." In spite of himself, Kouryu re-focused. "We're not excavating you for parts."

"You got to save me, doctor. Just 'cause I once signed a donor card, please don't let them lizards eat me."

"Bloody freaking Mary! Why do I always get the moonbats?"

"I've seen 'em." The drunkard's eyes rolled wildly.

"Where's security?"

"They come up at night through cracks in our sewers—"

Dougan, the RN, finally managed to stumble through the maze, and latched onto the other arm.

"Oof!" The good knee whipped up and blindsided Kouryu in the temple, knocking him sideways. He skidded in a slick that hadn't been cleaned up properly and landed on his ass.

Security arrived with Velcro restraints, and as Kouryu struggled to his feet, he heard an unknown, authoritative voice order, "Respiratory, prepare for intubation. Nurse please prepare IMs of 4 mil Ativan, 10 mil Haldol, 10 mil Morphine, 10 mil Sux."

"The hell? What's with the overmedication?" Kouryu was ready to chew this interloper a new one. "The patient's condition isn't life-threatening!"

A flash of glossy black hair tumbling over a white lab coat and light glinting off glasses appeared over his left shoulder.

"Who are you?"

"Nurse." The man coolly ignored Kouryu and continued to issue commands. Dougan was already getting the intramuscular injections ready.

Over this stranger's shoulder, Kouryu saw his mentor, the hospital's chief surgeon. Dr. Koumyou looked as unruffled and detached as always.

"Please, move out of the way so we can work," the man with the sleek black hair commanded, "or at least over to the other side of the bed to monitor pulse and blood pressure."

Kouryu moved aside so that the respiratory therapist could get out the gauge for measuring airways. The arm he had held was now strapped to the bed rails anyway.

"Dr. Ukoku," Dr. Koumyou finally spoke. "This is our brightest intern, Kouryu."

"Do your interns always second-guess their department heads?"

Kouryu chewed the inside of his cheek in order to not react. He latched onto the old man's wrist, easily found the racehorse of a pulse, and started counting.

"Only the bright ones." Koumyou's voice could barely be heard above the patient's screams.

"So by that reasoning, since you called him the brightest, am I to presume he's always rude and argumentative?"

"Syringe," Dougan brought the syringe and four cartridges of meds. The first two contained the cocktail of antipsychotics. The third, a painkiller. The fourth, a powerful muscle relaxant.

Dr. Ukoku grabbed the paralytic first.

The flaccid skin over old man's bicep was swiped with antibiotic and the needle directly jabbed. A yelp interrupted the screams, which died off almost instantaneously. Kouryu counted as the plunger depressed, was yanked out, a fresh cartridge inserted and the process of injection repeated thrice. As the heartrate dropped, he cried, "Pulse."

Then the patient stopped breathing. The man's shirt was opened to ready him for CPR. A tube was slipped down his throat, a mask cinched over his mouth, and the therapist gently hooked him up to a respirator. The pulse immediately re-established itself, and he was wheeled away.

"We have a perfectly good X-ray machine here, and a secure room." Kouryu couldn't stop himself. "He should be kept under evaluation for at least 72 hours. Why are you taking him away already?"

"You heard the man. We can't carve him up and let the reptiles dine on him here." Dr. Ukoku's tone was so dry, it took Kouryu almost three beats to figure out he had to be joking.

"But this is against procedure."

"Leave it, Kouryu, there's a lad." Koumyou patted his arm. "When you earn your stripes, you can set procedures based on your judgment and experience, too."

As the patient was wheeled away, Kouryu peeled off his gloves and, swearing a blue streak, pelted them in the direction of the garbage bin. Halogen lights flickered and dimmed for a moment. In the corner, the old woman moaned again, just in case nobody had gotten the point she was dying yet.

"Kouryu."

He turned around to see Dr. Shuuei calmly standing behind him. How long had he been standing there, watching?

"Let me have a look at your throat, please."

"Why?"

"The guy had quite a grip on you. I just want to make sure there's no ligament damage or other problems, okay? You know how shock can mask things."

"What are you accusing me of?" He loosened his collar.

"Accusing? Where did that come from?" Now that he had been allowed within closer range, the physician's voice was quiet enough that only he and Kouryu could hear. "You were in a very stressful situation back there."

The intern inhaled to let out another blast, so while calmly taking in the abrasions around the young man's throat where the gown's collar when it had been bunched up in a fist had rubbed the skin raw, Shuuei kept talking, "Only three days to go, Kouryu. Three days against seven years of work. Try not to get booted out before you achieve your goal, won't you?"

Kouryu let out his breath, and Shuuei calmly progressed to a new subject, "Have you found out where your next posting is going to be?"

After a couple of huffs, Kouryu gritted out, "A clinic in the west."

"Oh? Near the—"

"The far west. Not near anything."

Shuuei fished a tube of medicated cream from the table, daubed it onto the scrapes, then slapped on some elasticized fabric bandages. "You're in for some ugly bruises. Might want to wear a dress shirt and tie when you go out for the next couple of weeks."  


* * *

 

Ukoku admired the view from the bank of floor-to-ceiling windows. The teaching hospital was situated on the crest of a foothill, overlooking a coulee filled with aspen and black pine. The ravine tumbled to a broad silver ribbon of a river.

The other side, the east wing where his office was located, provided a panorama of the university campus and beyond that, skyscrapers and the din of traffic rising off the freeways. The urban view with its lights and noises was vibrant and exciting for him, but in this office, the city didn't exist, and he found himself acquiring a taste for that, too. The sun had just started to sink beyond the mountains and everything turned golden and ancient.

The smell of dark coffee alerted him to Koumyou. Ukoku could hear even cats padding about, but the chief surgeon was quieter than cats. During the long qualification and interview process, even though the shuffles, sniffles and breathing of the other directors could be heard quite clearly, Ukoku had never been able to hear Koumyou. Not unless Koumyou wanted to be heard.

"Would you like a shot of something? Cognac or rum?" The demitasse was held at his elbow as an offering. "This is one of my indulgences—but maybe you prefer something more stimulating now that our day is officially over."

"This is fine, thank you."

The couch Ukoku sank into, after accepting the beverage, was covered with soft plum-coloured suede and moulded beautifully to his body. With a long sigh, he instantly released tension he didn't even know he had been holding.

The entire office was like a jewel box designed to secure but not detract from the man who worked and relaxed there. There were many comforts, but so simply and plainly expressed that they did not seem palatial and overbearing. The only item which added a particularly personal touch was a sumptuous, saffron-coloured counterwoven silk _cheongsam_ on a wooden hanger by the door. It looked as though the material kissed the skin. Ukoku had an itch—not to wear it himself, curiously—but to see Koumyou wearing it, his hair loose about his shoulders like a veil.

To his surprise, Koumyou did not sit in the opposite couch, prepared to engage in conversation, but at the far end of the same couch to partake in the view. His head and shoulders were framed by the spectacular vista. The setting sunlight burnished his skin and hair. For over an hour, they watched the sunset in contentment and sipped their espressos, neither of them inclined to break the silence. It was only when the last vivid line of red-orange which limned the clouds had disappeared, and the lamps with their automatic timers clicked on, that Koumyou stirred.

"Want another?" He got to his feet and took Ukoku's now-empty cup.

The dark-roasted flavour still lingered like the last traces of a caramel in Ukoku's mouth. "I'm fine, thank you."

After the long golden line of Koumyou's braid falling down his back was turned to him, as the man busied himself at the console which held the dishes and espresso-maker, Ukoku finally came to the point. "He's got to go, Koumyou. You know that, right?"

The chief physician nodded his acknowledgment, not his acquiescence. "He is extraordinarily talented and bright. I wish you would re-consider."

"An emergency room is not the place for a ranking struggle, especially when one of the alphas is still a pup and a bloody rude one at that. It's unbelievable the way he speaks to patients. I won't have him undermine me."

"But he's only got three days—the remainder of this week. That's nothing, air between your fingers. After three days, he will be certified and transferred to another hospital. _Whoosh,_ gone."

"Ah, but he can be '_Whoosh,_ gone' on my say-so tomorrow." Ukoku smiled at how Koumyou tried to stonewall. "And I won't feel responsible for having saddled him onto some other unsuspecting ER."

"Do you know how hard it is to find talent like his?"

"I don't want to hear about how special your pet is."

"The time we extend to our interns represents a considerable investment for us."

"Then best that he learns at this late date. Unchecked, this could lead to bigger risks. It could conceivably put our ER at risk; or, at least, it could if I weren't there to oversee it."

"Is there no other way? One which doesn't exact such a steep toll?"

"Perhaps, but nothing quite so effective. Presumably other doctors have tried the more genial approach in the past?"

Koumyou was surprised enough to turn around. This pleased Ukoku, who didn't think there was anything left in his arsenal which had the power to surprise the older physician.

"Is he really that intolerable?" That soft, creamy voice fell softer and creamier. If there was a power to lick someone's voice, Ukoku suddenly wished he knew of it.

"I have to feel free to remove anyone who disrupts the ER. If you must know, he sits on the scale between slightly more than a minor irritant," Ukoku gestured a distance between his palms, then made it smaller by barely an inch, "and considerably less than intolerable, but even small irritations grow intolerable during emergencies. You know that."

"I do." Koumyou's eyes flew to the upper righthand corner of the room, and he bit his lip as though searching for some way to forestall the inevitable. "Since it will only be three days, though, isn't there anything I can do to change your mind?"

"Do?" Ukoku's mind went blank. He wasn't used to these sorts of things happening without a battle. "Like what?"

"Is there anything you could use?" Koumyou leaned against the console, his hands sliding down the cool black stone to his sides. "A bonus packet off my salary for every day he stays? Maybe a week of my vacation time transferred onto yours?"

"No, no." Ukoku shook his head, uncertainly. He was breathing more quickly and his head felt light. "The contract you gave me is a good one. I don't feel the need for any more money at this point, and I go a bit crazy trying to find things to do with myself during holidays as it is. I always end up coming back to work early, so I don't need your time off."

"But you're hesitating. It sounds as though there is something you might want."

The agitation made Ukoku rise to his feet. "I'm sure there is. I like power. I respond to it, and here you are, just offering it to me. It's immensely gratifying."

"In exchange for you withholding the exercise of your power for three days," Koumyou clarified. "Just enough for the intern to graduate and leave this Friday."

"I don't want that."

"But, if we found something you really want, you would leave him be?"

"Naturally." Ukoku collapsed a little over his stomach. It wasn't the opportunity implicit in this situation which deflated him so much as that he didn't have to fight for it, something he had never faced before. So much respect accorded to him, just like that. It felt very nearly like a predicament.

"Do you like my office? Would you like to exchange spaces?"

"I do, but I also like my space well enough, and you're going to think this strange, but it is definitely _your_ office. A lovely space, but what makes it lovely is, um … you." This puzzled him even more, but not so much as the delight which blossomed across Koumyou's face.

"Why, thank you, Ukoku."

"I wasn't actually trying to compliment you." He couldn't believe he was mumbling. His sentences were usually strung together more intentionally. Squeamishness and discomfort were not traits for which he had much patience. If it came to offending someone's delicate sensibilities and getting what he wanted, there was no contest. "I merely said what I thought."

"Which only makes it better." Koumyou beamed. "I was thinking something similar myself. How much more attractive and lively a room looks when something new transpires within it."

"Ah, then you—" Ukoku cut off his words when he realized that Koumyou hadn't actually said anything. Or at least, he hadn't specifically said Ukoku's presence made the room more alive or interesting for him.

As he swallowed his question and his pride, his eyes fell on the yellow silk _cheongsam_. "You know, this is a silly request, and it isn't worth the hassle of putting up with that intern, but I'm curious to see what you look like in that."

Koumyou's eyes followed the gesture. "You want to see me in my pyjamas?"

"Pyjamas?" And several seconds later, "You sleep here?"

Of course he sometimes slept at the hospital, Ukoku mentally kicked himself. There wasn't a surgeon who didn't on rare occasions. Why was he saying such inane things all of a sudden?

"Just like you did with _Médecins Sans Frontières_." Koumyou slid off his lab coat and hung it up carefully, then loosened and slipped off his tie. Without a spare thought, he snapped off his cufflinks and started to unbutton his shirt. "You know how busy it gets. I never could sleep in trousers or, worse, jeans. So uncomfortable!"

Ukoku swallowed hard as creamy skin stretched across firm, shapely muscles. There was a smattering of tiny dark brown freckles scattered across the chief surgeon's chest, like chocolate sprinkles on the froth of a cappuccino. Ukoku felt like he was starving. He swallowed hard to cover up the phantom sensation of dragging his tongue across them, how it made his mouth water.

"This is wonderful though, isn't it? Picked it up in Taipei during my last trip." Koumyou prattled.

Ukoku didn't listen. He was completely mesmerized by long fingers tugging free a leather belt from fine cashmere trousers, pinching the waistband button loose and unzipping inan effortless downstroke. His hearing seemed to be unnaturally affected, since all he could hear clearly was his heartbeat. The show suddenly stopped, and Ukoku looked up to see Koumyou staring at him.

"Have you found a home in the city yet?" Koumyou was asking—for the second time.

Ukoku's scalp felt damp. His limbs felt heavy.

"I … uh, I think I've found what I want." Unusually for him, his voice had become very deep and quiet. And then, since it sounded confusing in the context of Koumyou's question, "In exchange for those three days."

Koumyou's smile disappeared. They stood for several moments, Ukoku's unaccustomed sense of awkwardness growing. Koumyou wasn't the least bit self-conscious about his semi-nudity, or about the presence of someone who had just said something that most people would be surprised, if not shocked to hear. Ukoku felt relieved that Koumyou's last smile hadn't been replaced with revulsion or wariness, but he wasn't sure what the hesitation was about. This was a simple yes or no moment. Then it seemed like the man was waiting for him to say something, to confirm the obvious or, at least, provide some direction.

"Is that so?" Koumyou prompted.

Ukoku didn't know what to say. He put out a hand and stroked it down the front of Koumyou's lean, well-shaped torso. His skin was soft, smooth and clean. A light scent rose off of it like the petal of a peony. He murmured, "Stunning."

Koumyou had dozens of different smiles, each flashing into the other like currents along a copper wire. This one was barely a soft light in the eyes, crowsfeet at the corner of the lid—the man was much older, but he had aged so gracefully. It was more real than any of his other smiles, which had always felt like shields to Ukoku.

"I guess that answers my next question." Koumyou's solid and frank tone grounded him.

"Question?"

"Whether you want me to go commando or not." Koumyou reached under the yellow tunic, to reveal chestnut silk pyjama bottoms. "Or did you even want me to wear these still?"

"Oh, yes. God, yes!"

Off Koumyou's trousers and underpants slipped, to be neatly clipped on hangers, creases intact. The shirt followed. Without clothing to interrupt the long line of his body, Koumyou looked much taller. When he dressed himself, the silk clothing slipped over his skin like water. As he reached swung his plait over his shoulder, Ukoku stopped him.

"Please, let me."

Ukoku lifted the braid to his face and breathed. It held a faint scent of shampoo. As though unwrapping a parcel, he coaxed it from its string and worked the strands free. As a whole, the hair felt smooth and silky, but the individual strands were quite thick and coarse, enough so that they fell straight even though woven in a braid all day. There were many more silver hairs than a quick casual glance admitted.

Through process of unwinding the plait, Ukoku tucked himself close to Koumyou. The heat between them was like lying directly in the sun. Strong, gentle arms enfolded him. He felt warm palms slide around his back and circle with slow, firm strokes. Together, they shifted their balance from side to side until it became a gentle sway.

There was something about this conquest which changed Ukoku's pattern. He wasn't sure what it was.

Loosened, Koumyou's hair fell past his hips as a shimmering sheet of reflective light. As Ukoku stroked his fingers through it, the older man said, "Do you like being kissed?"

"Not as a rule. Do you like kissing?"

"Not generally, but right now and right here, I would like to kiss you. Would that be okay?"

The electrical charge in Ukoku's body instantly spiked. He licked his lips. He was going to warn Koumyou, ask him if he really felt he could be trusted, but when he felt those fingers softly slide under his jaw and behind his neck to tilt his head back, the thought was chased away. As Koumyou moved in, his eyes fluttered shut, and the first kiss was little more than a brushing of lips against lips. Then Ukoku opened his mouth and Koumyou pressed in. By the time he was finished, Ukoku's eyes were glazed, everything felt about five times plumper and moister than it usually was, and he was leaning against the older man while trying to catch his breath.

Koumyou seemed similarly affected, heavy lidded and breathing heavily.

"Mmm, thank you for that." He nuzzled against Ukoku's ear. "Shall I continue?"

With a weak laugh, Ukoku sagged against him. It appeared that Koumyou was going to ask his permission every step of the way, but what he wanted … what he thought he wanted … what he was feeling … what he thought he was feeling … . Again, those long fingers slid under his jaw tilting his head up so Koumyou could get a look in his eyes. Ukoku figured his pupils had to be dilated into black pools.

Something pressed against the backs of his knees. During the kiss, Ukoku had been carefully swayed over to the purple couch with the soft fabric and stuffing which felt like sinking into a bottomless nest of down. He sank as the golden sheath of hair fell all around him, and long, adept fingers unfastened his clothing. He hadn't stopped sinking before Koumyou's lips and tongue and teeth nipped and licked and sucked down his body until Ukoku, at last, sank under wet heat.

* * *

 

Kouryuu slammed the clipboard with the medical charts next to the laptop.

"Please don't take it out on the rest of us, junior." Kanzeon punched the computer keys with the pads of her fingers so as not to snag grotesquely long fingernails.

"I'm sick and tired of being overruled. Can't anyone call off the damned guard dog?"

"What is it this time?" The administrator was shrewder than she let on. Kouryu knew she was paying close attention under all that bored affectation.

"It's what he didn't do. Just let the morphine kick in, and chances are the patient would calm right down. Where's the commitment to harmlessness?"

Kanzeon shot him a sharp look over her reading glasses.

"I hadn't pegged you as a whiner, Kouryu. Have any of these patients died?" She kept typing, the content of her email superseding his grievances.

"No, but they're alcoholics. Their livers can't detoxify like regular—"

"Oh, so you're saying he's poisoning them, these poor, fragile wino-junkie flowers."

Plus she wore too much perfume, which personnel were technically not allowed to do in the hospital. Kanzeon parried his complaints by saying it must be the residue of her hair conditioner or fabric softener.

"Not so much that, although some of them have been smoking all their lives and they're bound to have emphysema, and to get knocked out like that—"

"Then what you're telling me is he's suffocating them."

"No! All I'm saying is what's with the overmedication each and every time? Why not try a less potentially risky approach?"

When Kanzeon stepped away from her keyboard, Kouryu finally figured out he had crossed a line.

"Risk? You think this is about risk? Intern, this is a Level One Trauma Unit in one of the biggest teaching hospitals in one of the bigger cities on this continent. Do you have any notion how many patients we cycle through in ER during a given day?" She picked up a chart and waved it so closely under his nose he had to take a step back. Kouryu swallowed. He already knew the triple, sometimes quadruple digits were astronomical.

"Now do you have any idea where Dr. Ukoku worked before he came here?"

"Red Cross or Red Crescent, was it?"

"No, but close enough. Do you know on average how many people he saw every day for the past ten years?"

"I …uh—"

"Hundreds, brought in from hundreds of miles around, everything from acute trauma to Ebola. Do you have the slightest idea what conditions he had to work under?"

"Um, no."

"Can you even guess?"

He bit his tongue.

"Okay, so let me ask you this: have you forgotten what happens when some stranger starts freaking out in triage? Let's—" She forestalled a response by showing him the palm of her hand, fatal fingernails raking the air. "Let's take out of the equation the possibility that he may be armed to the teeth and ready to shoot everyone because he thinks we're a bunch of man-eating reptiles; what sort of other medical reactions could we possibly be facing? You know, like, say, stroke or cardiac arrest?"

He wisely kept biting his tongue.

"In short, calm and cool is good. Right, Kouryu?"

"Calm is good," he hissed between clenched teeth. "Cool is good."

"Make that your mantra, and you just might get to be a real doctor."  


* * *

 

Ukoku dropped his lab coat into the laundry bin. He had very nearly thrown out his agreement with Koumyou twice in that last hour alone, out of a dozen times over the past two days.

The intern was a regular battalion of slivers working their way under his fingernails. Someone had finally taken the initiative to get him to shut up, but Kouryu didn't actually have to say anything; Ukoku could feel toxic slurries of resentment splash over him from the far end of the hospital's parking lot.

It wasn't that he actually cared; let the small fry dream up whatever delusion made his head feel glutted and self-satisfied. What needled Ukoku was the way it affected the other staff as they felt the dynamic shift from a general concern and overview for the entire department to this narrow focus between two personalities. It was driving a wedge between the department head and the patients; anyone who had caught onto Kouryu's accusations would be bound to feel more anxious and think Ukoku didn't have their best interests at heart—and it wasn't that he didn't, but that he also had to balance their concerns against the needs of all the other ill and injured and dying. Same with the rest of the logistical arrangements. Nobody had gotten under his skin like that since he had been stuck under Goudai at the encampment in the Ilemi Triangle, and it had been Ukoku whose turn it was to shut up and learn, at least until he had learned everything they could teach him.

The only thing which had kept him from sacking the kid so far was his utter bewitchment with Koumyou. For the past two nights, he had been saturated with pleasure, and it wasn't even the sex, although that was certainly the most inventive and stimulating he had ever had. If he kept daydreaming about the way Koumyou had touched him and not touched him until he came so powerfully just from being filled, he was going to explode right there.

But it went beyond the enjoyment they found in each other's company as well, beyond their conversations and fascinations. Just that past night, Ukoku had been lying exhausted, asleep and crumpled in a half-foetal position on his side, when he felt Koumyou start to clean him with a warm, wet cloth, and change the sheets under him. Even though he didn't feel quite ready to stir, he had, lifting himself up to a blurry semi-recline and mumbling, "Sorry, I'll move—"

Suddenly, he found himself drowning in a sea of coarse golden hair as Koumyou enfolded him and planted such emphatic, possessive kisses on his cheek and neck that roses bloomed beneath them. Koumyou had a surprisingly fierce whisper to go with his surprisingly fierce kisses.

"Please, let me do this for you. You've worked so hard for others for so many years. Please, let me treat you this time. Let me give you an atom of the attention they've received."

It had stunned Ukoku. He had to blink back a strange, watery dissolution that had invaded his cool. He felt, in that moment, a pitiful creature, filled with pride he didn't even know he had been holding, even as he felt a bit ridiculous and childish.

That was when he surrendered completely, all the resistance leaving his body with one heavy sigh. And when Koumyou had lowered him gently back, and cleaned him, and finished changing the bed under him as though he were one of his own patients, Ukoku had no words. He simply felt. No mental activity required. Relaxation into feelings had always been dangerous before, too close to the bone. Now, in this situation, he was safe and it felt wonderful beyond words. Upon which he promptly fell into the deepest most restorative sleep he had had in years.

All of which brought him to this place: the last night of their agreement. Who knew he could be so easily won? Now that he had been won, however, he didn't want it to end.

"All good things come to an—_oophf!"_ Arms were thrown around him from behind. Ukoku smiled as Koumyou's light scent filled his nose.

"Miss me?"

With a lascivious chuckle, Ukoku turned around and stretched his arms around the tall man's neck. He stood on his tiptoes and placed wet, luxurious kisses on Koumyou's chin and neck, then slowly rubbed hip against hip. Voices in conversation drifted in from the corridors nearby, so Ukoku pulled away. Koumyou looked almost as though he would've been perfectly willing to let everyone know, but this could cause problems.

"Listen—" Ukoku reached out for his sports jacket. "Why don't you show me some of the better grocers around this area? I wouldn't mind picking up the ingredients for a hotpot, maybe a bottle of good wine. The suite where I'm staying for now has a kitchenette. I might as well use it."

"Oh?" Koumyou's lab coat was rolled up and tossed like a basketball into the bin. "But then I will have to cancel the reservations I made for us. I know a place where the food is otherworldly. Are you sure you don't want to put off your groceries until tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow?" Ukoku felt his heart contract. He didn't want to waste his last night with Koumyou in a restaurant, no matter how tasty the food was. "But all I've found in my neighbourhood are delis and corner stores. Can't we put this restaurant visit off instead?"

"I'm sure if I called them now, they could pencil in someone else."

"Please," Ukoku gripped Koumyou's arm a little more ardently than he intended, "I don't want to share you with anyone else tonight. Please."

Koumyou's eyes flew wide open. He closed the distance between them, murmuring into Ukoku's hair. "My pleasure."  


* * *

 

Koumyou's pleasure turned out more unorthodox than anything Ukoku expected.

"It's called the shibari tortoiseshell. Are you sure you've never seen it before?" The photo Koumyou revealed on his laptop showed a person's trunk bound in an intricate web of soft interlaced ropes and flower garlands, a work of living art.

"Positive." Ukoku shook his head, still languid with postcoital energy from just after supper. "Not that I've ever looked much into it, but that's the strangest form of bondage I've ever seen. This person's arms and legs are completely free. How is that supposed to restrain them?"

"It's very subtle but surprisingly effective, and no, it does not generally restrict movements by suspending the person in stasis—although other ropes may be added which do just that." Koumyou flicked the picture viewer to an image of the same person in a variation of the tortoiseshell, mostly suspended from the ceiling, with arms bound behind the torso, one ankle pulled back and tied behind the thigh, the other stretched so that the body balanced on a single outstretched and pointed toe, like a flamingo or a ballerina. The natural artistry of the first photo morphed into something mannered and bizarre.

"That looks extremely uncomfortable."

"Not as bad as it appears. If the ropes are correctly tied, the person's weight should be distributed properly and completely supported by them. Of course, it still requires excellent physical conditioning."

"Is that the position you want for me?"

Desire brightened Koumyou's eyes. "Tempting, but no, and not because I wouldn't love to have you at my mercy—"

He cut off his words. Ukoku felt the deadline of their arrangement loom, an unspoken barrier between them.

"Ah, but you already have me at your mercy." The flutter of his eyelashes was both coquettish and sarcastic. "So you don't need to resort to ropes."

Koumyou was too wise to accept the flattery, but he didn't scoff either. His voice grew exceptionally gentle, and he stroked the lightest tip of a finger down Ukoku's cheek. "You aren't accustomed to being held in that position, and your body would need to be made stronger and more flexible. Otherwise there would be, as you say, only discomfort and not pleasure."

"You think I cannot handle pain?" Ukoku's tone acidified slightly.

"I'm positive you can. That isn't—"

"Then what's the problem?" They both knew the answer. Ukoku's eyes could not meet Koumyou's in that moment. Instead, they darted around the apartment hotel where he had set up temporary quarters. It was a bland space, with no trace of other people's lives, no idiosyncrasies, no personal history to distinguish it. Since he had returned from overseas, his entire life had felt like this. It wasn't so much that Ukoku wanted to be bound as that he wanted to bind Koumyou to him.

Instead of getting up, thanking Ukoku for the lovely meal and the wonderful sex, and disappearing into the night, Koumyou simply flicked back to the first photo.

Ukoku laughed, low, bitter and sardonic.

"How do we do this?" He held out his wrists.

The process of being laced up in the body net took about as long as Ukoku expected. He expected to be bored, to have to sink into the deeper recesses of his mind as Koumyou looped the coils around him and doubled back repeatedly, but the older man was too crafty for that. As he lay down the lines—running his fingers across Ukoku's skin, placing them snugly without pulling, tying off elaborate knots and slipknots, and plucking them to test the give—the tracery of his fingers left trails of fire. Ukoku's skin grew damp and sultry. His wrists, elbows, knees and ankles were left completely free. He could walk, run, fight, handle all the business of his daily routine freely, even take a knife and cut through the cords, cords which were fine, smooth and slender.

"I hate to tell you this," Ukoku said because he knew he was an ass and couldn't stop trying, unsuccessfully, to mask his discomfort and vulnerability with glib toss-offs, "but your ropes are little better than really thick string. How do you expect to control me with this?"

Without a word, and even though the ropes he had managed to knot until that point were not complete, Koumyou demonstrated. All he did was reach behind the smaller man and inch out a string—a single, narrow string, like plucking a harp. In accord, the others slid more tightly around his pelvis and ribcage, slowly constricting the space until Ukoku realized that he couldn't expand his chest. Without the ability to raise and lower his diaphragm, he couldn't take deep breaths. His breaths were forced to be shallow and short, like someone in trauma, and there were other immediate, corresponding effects. Panic gripped him.

Koumyou instantly reacted, easing the ropes back into their former position, like loosening shoelaces, until Ukoku breathed normally again.

"Now that you've experienced that," Koumyou said, in between dotting a line of tiny kisses down the back of Ukoku's neck until his skin was textured with raised hairs, "do you still want to continue?"

"That depends. Do you plan to cut off my breath like that?" Ukoku's silken voice belied the thunderous emotions coursing through him.

"No, I'm not actually trying to control you. When you first mentioned it, I was surprised, but I trust your own sense of self-control implicitly."

"If this isn't about control, or about being able to surrender control, then what's the point?"

Koumyou slipped the cords through a Turkish knotted bead, carefully positioned it in Ukoku's groin, then secured it with a knot. The bead was soft and small, not something which bit into Ukoku so that he felt constantly invaded, but large enough that he couldn't ignore it either. It nudged delicately and persistently. Ukoku was fascinated.

"I suppose I'm focused on the other side of the same coin. You see it as an issue of control. I see it in terms of trust. Are you willing to trust me?" Koumyou was standing behind Ukoku. He couldn't see his eyes or read his expression.

"I don't put a lot of faith in others. I'm a pretty skeptical guy."

"Even so, there are some fundamental basics which require your agreement if we are to proceed: this is entirely up to you every step of the way. If you tell me to stop, I will. If you say no, I will respect it. If you tell me not to do something, I won't do it. Shall I go further? Or do you want me to untie you now?"

"These cords will grow tighter and tighter until, at last, they—Is this some sort of auto-erotic asphyxiation game?"

"Heavens, no! Er … are you turned on by that? Well, it won't happen in any case, unless someone with experience figures it out and wants to hurt you, or if you indiscriminately tug at the webbing. Don't try to pull the cords off as you would if you were undressing yourself, or that could be the result."

"But I can get rid of them at any time? If I took, let's say, a scalpel to them?"

"Yes, of course, you could." Koumyou frowned. "You know, it is smart and entirely natural for you to be concerned for your safety. This was a whim of mine, and now that I think about it, quite a foolish one. I will take it off."

"No, no, that's okay." Ukoku took a deep breath and leapt. "Continue."

"Are you sure?"

Of course, he wasn't sure. He couldn't even understand why he had let Koumyou in this far already. Even if Koumyou was offering him a graceful exit, it was too late. He couldn't go back. He had already stepped out into the void where nothing but his trust in this man could carry him. "Please, proceed."  


* * *

 

The next day, he cursed himself for underestimating Koumyou. With every breath and every twitch but the blinking of his eyelids, sensation rippled through Ukoku's body. The intricate web of soft interlaced ropes gently held, pulled, tugged, compressed, prodded and rubbed pressure points around his torso, stomach and groin until he was nearly driven to distraction. It was like he was being constantly groped. If his new job had involved mainly sitting behind his desk, this wouldn't have been such a problem. During one of the busiest, most stressful shifts he had yet endured, however, he was nearly wild with the aggravation.

He couldn't actually recount how many patients he had seen that day. It was like the war zones in east Africa only with better equipment, drugs, clean water, better diet, sanitation, lighting and more personnel. So, not really like a war zone in east Africa except in terms of numbers.

A very good thing it was that he was so busy, too. Whenever Ukoku didn't attend to his responsibilities with one hundred percent focus, he quickly found himself getting lost in the sensations of his body. Two different doctors and one nurse had asked if he had caught a fever or if he was overexerting himself. One of the drugged-up female patient had actually jumped him and, before security managed to pull her off, a few other staffers looked like they wanted to. Unwelcome hints had been dropped in his path all day.

And Kouryu, the arrogant snot-nose, was mouthier and more insinuating than ever when within earshot.

"Oh, it's just bruised ribs. Why don't we put you under, cut you open, and remove them?"

"Yeah, that looks like strep or staph, but it could also be a ruptured esophagus. Why don't we ram a camera line down your throat and find out?"

Dougan smacked Kouryu on the back of his head at one point. "Jeez, where do you get off saying that? Do you think you're being funny?"

But it was like he couldn't stop himself. It was as though he had convinced himself that Ukoku was an angel of death. The only thing his sarcasm missed was an "I told you so" moment, and given the nature of Emergency Rooms, Ukoku knew it was only a matter of time before fortune provided him with one. It wasn't possible to cheat death every time.

By the time the pregnant woman with gestational diabetes and other complications arrived, he had reached his limit. She couldn't hold anything down, and it was at the point where the dry-heaves had set off contractions, but when Ukoku got in close to listen to her chest, it turned out her stomach hadn't been completely empty after all. She emptied the last of it all over him.

His pulse was beating so loudly in his ears that he didn't even hear the words that Kouryu was mouthing. In that moment of tunnel vision, he could read enough of the intern's lips to know "miscarriage" was said, the absolute worst thing anyone could utter in the presence of so terrified a patient, one whose body reacted completely out of her control, and one who, when she wasn't puking her guts out, was sobbing with fear for her baby's safety.

Suddenly, flunking the bastard wasn't good enough. This narcissism wasn't a thing Ukoku thought another year in medical school could knock out of him.

His vision grew narrower, and on the tray of surgical implements to his right, Ukoku espied a scalpel, razor sharp and vicious, just one arm's length away. One swipe across the throat with that thing would cut off those ruthless words forever, wipe that ugly sneer away in a blink. Ukoku took a deep breath and started reaching across for it with his right hand, his strong hand, his surgical hand, the hand he used to save people, the hand of a healer. Suddenly, the cords of the shibari tortoiseshell grew taut from the unusual overreaching stretch, and the intersecting ropes twinged. It was as though Koumyou were there, enfolding his body, pulling on those cords and restraining him long enough for Ukoku to give his situation a second thought.

He looked at his hand. He looked at the front of his ruined scrubs. He looked back at Kouryu. When Ukoku reached back to the tray, he grabbed a towel instead of the scalpel, and started wiping himself off.

"Intern, you are way out of line!" He suddenly heard Dr. Shuuei cry, like an echo of something that had already been said.

When the intern got ready to shoot off another smartmouthed reply, Ukoku heard Kanzeon call out from the nursing station, "Kouryu, shut the fuck up! I was tempted to ask what your problem is, but at this point, I don't even want to know. Whatever it is, we're all sick of hearing about it."

"Please relax as much as you can, ma'am," Ukoku shook off his distractions to get back to the more important business of reassuring the patient. "Your vital signs are strong, as are those of your foetus. I want you to know that this doesn't look life-threatening at all, just really unpleasant. What is probably happening is that your strep throat is setting off your gag reflex, in conjunction with your morning sickness, which is getting worse because you can't keep your food down. I say 'probably' because naturally we need to test and monitor you just to make sure it isn't something more serious. Your obstetrician is on call and will be right down. You will probably be set up in the prenatal ward, with an IV of electrolytes to counteract dehydration and regulate your blood sugars, and if we assess the risks correctly, some Gravol to stop the gagging. If the Braxton-Hicks don't stop naturally after that, the OB/GYN may decide to administer a hormone to bring the contractions to an end, but frankly, it doesn't look as though either you or your baby are in peril. It could've become more serious if you hadn't brought yourself to a hospital, but you came in plenty time for us to get your troubles under control before other complications set in."

Her fear seemed to evaporate almost instantly. Apart from the odd hiccough of a sob, she sighed with relief and almost laughed when this set off her gag reflex again. After another bout of dry heaves, she managed to mutter a wry, "Thanks, doctor."

"Excellent."

Since the Emergency Room seemed to be in an unexpected moment of lull, he placed Dr. Shuuei in charge and left to change into something clean.  


* * *

 

It was Koumyou and Kanzeon who had summoned Ukoku and Kouryu into the boardroom just as their shifts ended. Ukoku had been late putting the finishing touches on the paperwork and reports that were part of his duties, but the others held off until he arrived. He hadn't expected to see the intern there at all. He had assumed Kouryu would've received his shiny evaluation by now, dispatched with a boisterous farewell party and ready to make his way west. He especially did not expect to hear what the chief surgeon and the hospital administrator had to say.

"In almost all respects, but one, Kouryu, you have been an excellent—no, an exemplary intern. We can go over the list of areas where your knowledge and skills are considered first-rate and list off the glowing reports we've received. However, we simply cannot overlook the situation between you and the department head."

"No way. You're holding me back because I wasn't _polite_ enough? You've got to be joking."

Koumyou stepped in at that point because Kanzeon was bristling.

"Oh, we had no problems when you originally raised objections to Dr. Ukoku's decisions. This is to be expected as a natural part of the learning process, and we even encourage it during team diagnosis and treatment situations. That you raised your concerns indiscriminately in front of patients was problematic, but forgivable; we all get carried away and forget discretion in the heat and stress of ER. It was disappointing that you never approached Dr. Ukoku to sort things out and evaluate the reasoning upon which he based his decisions. I'm sure you would've learned a great deal, but this speaks to the fundamental disrespect which has brought us here.

"For the past three days, we have observed you mount a public campaign of cheap shots that not only undermined the morale of the ER, but terrified our patients. That is unacceptable. It beggars the imagination why you would think you know how to operate an emergency department better than Dr. Ukoku —a physician and surgeon who has honed his skills for years under rigors most of us have never tried to test, one whom we were fortunate beyond measure to hire—but evidently, you do. You don't seem to think you have anything to learn from him. Well, we are telling you that you are wrong, and that now the situation must be rectified."

"This is just a personality issue between two incompatible people," Kouryu shouted, leaping to his feet. "That should not get in the way of my medical career. Everywhere people are saying how much we need more doctors. I can't believe you're taking his side!"

"Dr. Ukoku was ready to dismiss you on the first day." Koumyou scratched a quick note on the bottom of the evaluation. "I asked him to hold off, and he complied. It was our hope that you would've seen how you were behaving, or picked up on the signals which others were sending you, and changed. You are here today because you didn't, and Kanzeon and I agree that Dr. Ukoku's original decision was the right one. This is our decision."

Kouryu dropped back into his chair, thunderstruck. He was just starting to realize what was at stake. His face had turned pale.

"Seven bloody years, wasted!"

"Don't jump ahead of us here, Kouryu." Kanzeon took over. "This isn't Divine Retribution. We aren't issuing an edict to expel you from emergency departments forever and ever. Out of respect for your accomplishments and hard work, we've been in touch with your dean and with Dr. Yaone at Houtou, the hospital where, I believe, you were slated to begin next week. They agreed that there was no reason for you to repeat something you understand perfectly well. Instead, if you choose to continue toward certification, you will be given a three-month probationary period in their outpatient services. It is our belief that this will give you more of an opportunity to practice your non-interventional style of medicine without slowing down a Level One Triage. Is this an agreeable compromise?"

"Do I have any alternative?"

Nobody spoke. They didn't have to. Even Kouryu knew he sounded like a spoiled and sulky brat.

"Was there anything else you wished to say with regards to Kouryu's peer review, gentlemen?" Kanzeon looked pointedly at Ukoku, who shook his head.

Dr. Koumyou added, "Only that we trust that you will strive to overcome this impediment, Kouryu, as you've overcome all the other obstacles. Once you get past it, we firmly believe that you have a bright future. Good luck."  


* * *

 

As Ukoku locked his office door for the night and moved into the abandoned corridor, he caught the familiar whiff of coffee, caramel, ginger and leather that warned him of Koumyou's presence. He had hidden his eyes behind mirrored sunglasses, schooled his smile, and was now psychologically prepared to accept their return to a collegial relationship. He turned on the count of three and—was definitely not prepared for the man's arms to wrap around him and tip him backwards, or for his lips to descend and kiss the psychological preparedness right out of him.

Nor was he ready when Koumyou pulled back just enough to ask him, "Did you know you have a spot in the middle of your forehead? I noticed it this evening at Kouryu's evaluation."

Ukoku shook his head. He wasn't in the habit of checking his face in the mirror.

"Do you mind if I …?" Koumyou licked his thumb and mimed rubbing it.

"By all means," Ukoku brushed his hair back, and Koumyou tried to clean it off.

"How very odd! It doesn't appear to be coming off. In fact, it looks like a beauty spot. I've never seen one grow that fast before."

"I'll have to check it next time I'm in the restroom. Was there something you wanted to ask me, Dr. Koumyou?"

"Was there!" Koumyou loomed in again. "Tell me, do you like looking at the stars?"

Ukoku snorted back a laugh. "You can't see the stars in the city."

In Africa, he had seen them everywhere, even near the smaller cities because their lights did not penetrate that far out into the veldt or the desert. It was only when a person ventured to the larger cities—Nairobi, Cairo, Khartoum—that the light blotted out the stars. It turned out, now that Koumyou mentioned it, he did miss them.

"I know that." Koumyou kept running his hands over him, following the tracery of cords against his skin. "I have a place about sixty miles out into the country, near the mountains, just a three-room cabin on a reservoir. It has a porch and a small beach, the perfect place to sit out on a night as warm as this with some glasses of good port, to roast things on sticks and stare at the stars."

"It sounds like you're inviting me to join you."

"Doesn't it? Because, you know, that's exactly what I'm doing."

"I was planning to hunt for a condo this weekend."

"I thought so. I also thought that was a project which can wait as easily for the next weekend, or the next, or the next, or even forever."

"But I don't particularly like the place where I'm staying right now."

"Come stay at my place, then."

Ukoku swallowed another laugh. "Now it sounds like you're inviting me to come live with you."

The warm hands continued to run over his back. Ukoku turned serious. "Don't you think it's a bit too soon?"

"Ah, but first let me explain my nefarious plot: I invite you to spend time at my cabin on weekends when you want a break from the urban grind, and at my condo when you want to partake of the restaurants or theatres or other joys of city life. And together we get into all kinds of mischief. Or not, depending on our moods. The other nights, when you just want some time to yourself—which doesn't sound like it happens very often, from what you were describing of your work habits—then you go to your miserable apartment hotel to languish until enough time has passed that it is no longer a bit too soon, and you finally realize that living with me is exciting, sexy, fascinating and all the things you wanted to do all along. What do you think?"

"That sounds like a plan." Ukoku was still bewildered by the part where it didn't look like Koumyou wanted their agreement to end just yet.

"An agreeable one?"

"I don't know. What if I don't like your condo? Or your cabin?"

"Then I put them up for sale, and we find ones we both like."

"Really?"

Koumyou dipped in for another kiss. When he came back up again, he had somehow weaseled his fingers under Ukoku's dress shirt, and after giving his nipple a cheeky pinch, wrapped them around one of the shibari cords. "How was this today?"

"Distracting and aggravating as hell! The ER is no place for this sort of toy. What are you trying to do to me? Here I had to make life and death decisions, and it felt like your fingers and lips and," his voice fell to almost a whisper, "the head of your cock was pushing up against me all day."

"Ah, but you were so incredibly sexy. I could hardly keep myself from pulling you into a private ward and molesting you."

"You and half of the hospital."

"What? I can't have that!"

"And it's starting to chafe."

"Easily remedied." Koumyou gave the string he was holding a light tug, and the entire web with its elaborate slip knots unravelled as he pulled the string free from the collar of Ukoku's shirt, winding the loose end into a ball. Within a minute, the net was completely gone, all except for the soft Turkish knot bead, which remained—uncomfortably—in Ukoku's underpants. He pulled at the elastic and gave a little jiggling dance until it dropped down his trouser leg. Then he picked it up with a tissue and threw it in the trash.

"But at one point, it was like you were in the room with me," Ukoku admitted. "It was at a moment when I most needed to remember you."

"Is that so?" Koumyou's face looked serious and completely attentive.

"So, yes, I was thankful for it in that moment." Ukoku refused to get into specifics.

"See? I'm just full of great ideas. So what do you think of my condo-plan now?" Koumyou started to steer him to the elevators.

"Mm, I'm not sure."

"How about just the weekend at my cabin then? "

"Isn't there a full moon tonight? Maybe we won't be able to see the stars in any case."

"There's supposed to be an eclipse, come to think of it."

The elevator arrived with a soft _ding_ and the two men stepped onto it, talking about phases of the moon.

_—fin—_


End file.
